


After Salineas

by humanbean



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: But only in passing, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, It's Soft, glimmer is also here but not enough for a character tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26432491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanbean/pseuds/humanbean
Summary: “I’m three doors up the hall if you need anything,” Glimmer says, in an unusually gentle voice, like Mermista is made of glass or something. Weird enough, for a second it’s nice—for a second she sounds like her mother.Mermista processes the loss of her kingdom.
Relationships: Mermista/Sea Hawk (She-Ra)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	After Salineas

Mermista doesn’t say a word as Glimmer takes her back to Bright Moon, as she finds something old of Bow’s that Mermista can sleep in, or as she puts her into bed in a spare room with a mug of hot cocoa from the kitchens pressed between her palms. 

“I’m three doors up the hall if you need _anything_ ,” Glimmer says, in an unusually gentle voice, like Mermista is made of glass or something. Weird enough, for a second it’s _nice_ —for a second she sounds like her mother, like a missive that had come from the kingdom of Bright Moon back when Mermista’s dad had first fucked off and left her with a kingdom crumbling in her hands, a missive Mermista had never answered because she was like, _busy_ and she had it _under control_ and because like who needs more adults to promise they’ll be there for you and then let you down, right?

  
(Sometimes, after war meetings, she looks at Queen Angella’s mural in the hallway and pens a thank you letter in her head. But it’s, like, whatever.)

At the doorway, Glimmer turns out the lights, and in the dark Mermista can force a raspy “thanks” out of her mouth. It probably doesn’t help with the whole ‘made of glass’ thing.

The cocoa has gone cold, untouched, in her hands, when Sea Hawk inevitably pokes his head through the door, once he’s finished up with his arson or whatever the fuck he gets up to when Mermista’s not around, it’s not like it’s her business. She thinks about complaining, about a groan or a “not you again” or a “what do you want,” because like, that’s how it _is_ with Sea Hawk, but...she’s too tired. 

  
“You know what the worst thing is?” she says, instead of like _hi_ or _come in_ or _do you have anything better to do than sit here and listen to me moan about my problems?_

He doesn’t leave. He never does. He takes the cold mug out of her hands and sets it down on the nightstand, and then sits on the corner of the bed at her feet. “What?” he asks, in the same fragile-glass tone as Glimmer had and Mermista grinds her teeth.

“I was having _fun_ ,” she says. “We’re at war and I treated this like it was one of my stupid Mer-mysteries and look what happened.” A hysterical urge to laugh, or cry, or maybe both at once, bubbles up. Neither happens. “Some ruler I turned out to be.”

A little wrinkle appears between Sea Hawk’s eyebrows. It’s not one that she gets to see a whole lot, because he’s not usually serious like this. Not usually _concerned_. “This is _not_ your fault,” he says, after a second. “The Horde turned out to be worthier adversaries than we thought, darling, and that has nothing to do with your investigation, which was brilliant if you’d allow me to say so.”

  
“Don’t call me darling,” Mermista says, because she has to draw the line somewhere. 

“We’ll make this right somehow.” He takes both her hands in his, and she’s _cold_ , okay, maybe she leans into it a little and if she does, it’s because she needs to warm up, that’s _it_. “Do you think you can get some sleep?” 

  
And Mermista squeezes her eyes shut tight, because saying this is going to _suck_ and she’s going to hate it and maybe it won’t be so bad if she doesn’t have to look at him when she says it.

  
“Can you stay with me?” 

She doesn’t open her eyes as he squeezes and then lets go of her hands, as the dip of his weight on the bed disappears, and maybe he’s leaving, maybe she asked too much and she’s going to hear the door click shut behind him and then she’s going to have to spend the night like this, alone with the sound of the thunder outside and her guilt and—

The bed dips again, and he’s next to her. 

“I can be anywhere you need me to be, Mermista,” he says. “Always.”

And the scary part is, he might mean it. 


End file.
